


The Smuggler's Moon

by Optimistique



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Ezra Bridger - Freeform, Gen, Kanan Jarrus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:38:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4310829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optimistique/pseuds/Optimistique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While running missions for the Rebellion, the Ghost crew is called to make a supply drop on the city world Nar Shaddaa. But even on non-Imperial worlds, enemies lie in wait. When Ezra is his master's only hope, he may just learn the meaning of true sacrifice. (Takes place after season 1 finale and before "Siege of Lothal". Centers on Kanan and Ezra's father/son relationship).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Star Wars Rebels. Hope you enjoy the story! Reviews are always appreciated. Thanks!

 

Ezra hadn’t expected a placed called the “Smuggler’s Moon” to be so...colorful. He knew Sabine was impressed. He watched her eyes go wide as Hera brought the Ghost down toward the spaceport. Out the main viewport they could see an impossibly enormous city awash with lights of all colors. It was daytime on this hemisphere, but underneath the thick cloud of pollution permeating the atmosphere, it looked like a lively night. As the ship descended farther onto the landing platform, the buildings all around them seemed to grow taller. They looked like buildings on top of buildings, progressing ever upward. Kanan had told them this was a city world, much like Coruscant. (Not that Ezra had ever been to Coruscant, but of course he knew what it was; everyone knew about the Imperial capital planet.) As such, Ezra guessed that they had no more land left for constructing outward, and instead built on top of existing foundations every few years. But what use they had for so many structures was beyond him. Did that many people really live here?

Sabine gazed at the bright signs hanging off the walls all around them. Most were advertisements for various products, but they were meticulously eye-catching. Some of them even looked like enormous, moving holo recordings. “It’s beautiful!” she breathed.

“Nar Shaddaa is a Hutt controlled world,” Hera said as she powered down the Ghost’s engines. “So when it comes to entertainment or advertising, they’re willing to spend the money.”

“Yeah but trust me Sabine, this is not a place to get comfortable in,” Kanan warned her sternly. “This is the seediest place in the galaxy. It’s a haven to pirates, smugglers, and all kinds of other criminals. Any kind of trade that’s illegal elsewhere in the galaxy comes through Nar Shaddaa. There are several gangs that have control of different parts of the world. I wouldn’t go looking for any great artistic masterminds stationed here.”

“Right…” Zeb growled, arms crossed. “So remind me why we’re here again?”

“We’re here,” Hera answered, “because this moon is not only highly populated, but highly overlooked by the Empire. They don’t really care what the hutts do here, so long as it doesn’t interfere with Imperial business. It’s the perfect place to hide a fledgling rebel cell. And that’s exactly who Senator Organa asked us to connect with. They’re bigger in number than we are, but they’re comprised mostly of refugees from worlds overrun by the Empire. They don’t have much in the way of equipment.”

“If Nar Shaddaa is such a center for trade, why do they need us to bring them supplies?” Ezra asked. When he imagined a refugee community, he thought of Tarkin Town--a group of people in a sparse, desolate place with no way of providing for themselves. But the Smuggler’s Moon seemed to teem with life and opportunity, even if business here was less than legitimate.

“One word,” Hera said, holding up her pointer finger. “Credits. Nothing is cheap on Nar Shaddaa. They don’t have a way to pay for the weapons and other things they’ll need to defend themselves here. So the senator is going to help them get going, complimentary of Alderaan. We’re going to deliver a few crates of supplies, and then be on our way.”

Sabine rolled her eyes. “By ‘a few’ I assume you mean the mountain we currently have stacked in our cargo hold.”

“It has to last them for a while. There may not always be someone available to reach them. Now. Anyone have any questions about your part of the plan?”

Chopper rolled forward and waved one mechanical arm, babbling in what sounded to Ezra like a frustrated tone.

Hera frowned. “I said questions Chop, not complaints. And no, you’re not going with Kanan and Ezra and Zeb, you’re staying on the ship with me and Sabine. The Phantom’s going to be crowded enough with three people and a half dozen crates without having to make room for an astromech.”

The droid did not relent. He launched into another series of unintelligible arguments.

“I know you’d be helpful, but I need you here, guarding the ship. This place is swarming with lowlifes. If anyone tries to put a tracker on us, I’ll need you to let me know. Besides, there’s a couple things I want you to check before we take off again.”

With a defeated pout he waved his wrench-hand half-heartedly and then rolled away.

“We’ll go prep the Phantom then,” Zeb said, lumbering off in that direction.

“You three be careful," Hera told them.

“We’ll be fine,” Kanan answered. “Keep the comm open. We’ll keep you updated on our status.”

“Will do, Love. See you soon.”

Kanan turned to his apprentice. “Oh, and Ezra: if we run into trouble out there, no lightsabers. Not unless absolutely necessary. This might not be an Imperial world, but there are probably still sympathizers. No need to go announcing ourselves.”

Ezra nodded. “No lightsabers. Got it.”

“And no obvious uses of the Force.”

Ezra couldn’t fight a crooked smile from twisting his lips. “Define ‘obvious.’”

Kanan frowned and gave him a small punch in the shoulder. “You know what I mean. Don’t let anyone see you throwing things around with your mind.”

“Okay, okay!” the boy relented, rubbing his shoulder. “No lightsabers, no Force. I get it.”

“And don’t mention the Rebellion where anyone might hear you. ...In fact, it’s probably better if you don’t say anything at all.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “Geez you really don’t trust me, do you?”

Kanan turned for the door to the cockpit. “It’s not a matter of trust,” he muttered before heading out.

xXxXxXx

The plan was not complicated. Ezra, Kanan, and Zeb would be making a series of drops at different points around Nar Shaddaa where small groups of rebels were waiting for them. Separating the shipment into multiple locations would help to throw off anyone who could potentially be interested in their activities and help hide the rebels’ true numbers. Not to mention that the Phantom could only hold a few crates at a time. But the Ghost was simply too large to safely navigate through the towering city.

Kanan piloted the small ship as Ezra sat with his feet up on a passenger seat so as to make room for two of the crates. Zeb stood by the back door, one hand on another pile to keep it from sliding. The odor secreted by his fur was a bit stifling in these close quarters, but luckily Ezra had grown accustomed to it in his time sharing a room with the lasat. 

The first drop went off without a hitch. The Phantom landed heavily and Ezra helped push all of the crates down the ramp. As soon as his feet hit the paved street, he had to stop and stare. To his surprise, they were not on a landing platform, but instead in the middle of an elevated highway that was swarming with people and various other sorts of vehicles. He had never seen so many sentient life forms in one place before. He had always thought Lothal was a fairly diverse planet, but it was nothing compared to this place. He quickly lost count of the number of species passing by. Many of them he couldn’t even identify. Some stood only half his height while others loomed taller than Kanan. A group of humans with blasters strapped to their hips chatted in a circle a few meters away. Two ugnaughts seemed to be carrying on an argument in their porcine language. A togrutan male stifled a yawn as he followed after a stern looking female. Everyone milled about the streets like insects in a hive, each going about his own business, and paying no special attention to the two humans and lasat.

Except for a group of six twi’leks. They were watching Ezra’s group with wary eyes. This put him on guard, but surprisingly Kanan approached them. He spoke quietly to one blue skinned male, who eagerly shook the jedi’s hand.

“Stop starin’,” Zeb growled beside him, making Ezra jump. “We’re supposed to be actin’ casual.”

Ezra gave his head a little shake and calmly proceeded to bring his crate to the twi’leks. As far as any passersby were concerned, they were just paid transporters making a delivery. One of the twi’leks, a woman, took the hovering box from him with a big smile. “Thank you!” she said softly in a thick Huttese accent. He could not help but return her smile. It was moments like this that made constantly being shot at by the Empire worthwhile. Helping people who couldn’t help themselves. Making a difference.

Each of the twi’leks took one of the crates, again expressing their gratitude. With this done, the crew returned to the Phantom and headed back to the Ghost to restock with more supplies.

Four more drops were completed in a similar manner. The groups of rebels who met them at their rendezvous points were varied. Several were twi’lek, but there was also a smattering of humans, mirialans, and couple duros and rodians. All of them looked a little worse for wear. Like they hadn’t had a proper meal or a shower in quite some time. Ezra could certainly understand that. He admired them for their interest in joining the Rebellion when they clearly had so little to begin with. 

On the way to the fifth and final drop off point, Ezra marveled at how smoothly this mission had gone. He had never experienced a world that had no Imperial presence. It was such a relief to not have to be constantly looking over his shoulder for storm troopers. And although he had noticed several seedy-looking sentients milling about, none had bothered them. That was probably why Hera insisted Zeb come along for this part of the mission. A lasat was an imposing figure to most races.

“Alright, almost done,” Kanan announced as he landed the Phantom once again. “Stay sharp. Just one more to go then we’re out of here.”

The ramp lowered and the three crew members brought out the cargo. Except that there was no one waiting for them.

Ezra looked around. There were plenty of people nearby, to be sure, but none made themselves apparent as before. He waited for them to appear, glancing up at Kanan. The jedi’s eyes were narrowed as he considered a currently empty corner of the street. “Something’s not right,” he muttered.

Ezra felt a warning through the Force a split second before he heard the whine of a blaster bolt. Kanan must have felt it sooner, because he reached behind him and shoved Ezra out of the way as the shot hit the pavement in the exact spot he had been standing.

Ezra stumbled into a roll and ducked behind one of the crates. Kanan and Zeb quickly did likewise as additional blaster fire rained down on them from at least four different places.

“Karabast!” Zeb growled as he clutched his rifle. “Where’s it coming from?”

“Up there!” Kanan shouted as he aimed his blaster at an upper window of one of the nearest buildings. He fired a precise shot, and suddenly a bulky body came tumbling down onto the street. It was not a species Ezra was familiar with. It was humanoid, but its skin appeared to be scaly, like a reptile, and it sported spiky protrusions in a ring around its eyes and cheeks.

Suddenly five more of them materialized from shadows and windows and converged upon the rebels. They were enormous; they towered even over Zeb. Any other being in the area quickly went running at the sight of them.

Coming from all sides, the crates no longer provided adequate cover. Ezra yanked his lightsaber hilt off of his belt, but did not activate it. Instead he fired a blue ball of energy at one of the thugs closing in behind him. The alien convulsed as the bolt hit him and then fell limp. Kanan picked off a few more in between evasive, almost graceful movements. Zeb roared as he narrowly avoided a shot to his chest and responded by gunning down the offender. 

All of a sudden a group of a least a dozen of them came thundering out of the alleyway. Ezra saw about ten more swarm in from the opposite direction out of a grate in the street floor. The rebels drew close together in a back-to-back circle. They were about to be surrounded. 

Zeb swore again. “How many of these things are there?!” 

“Get back to the Phantom!” Kanan yelled. “Now!”

The three made a mad dash, firing over their shoulders as they went. Zeb reached the ramp first with his long legs and then turned to offer cover fire for his companions.  
Ezra wasn’t sure exactly what happened after that. One minute he was at Kanan’s heels, and then the next minute pain exploded in his right calf and his face got an up close and personal look at the pavement. His vision flashed white, but he could still hear the barrage and Zeb shouting his name. 

Suddenly he was hoisted up roughly by his collar. A green, scaled arm pressed against his throat as he was shoved against a body that felt hard as a rock. Ezra struggled to breathe, looking around wildly. The alien that had him in a death grip shouted something in a different language and all at once the firing stopped. 

Kanan and Zeb froze, but did not lower their weapons. The hot rim of a blaster barrel was pressed against Ezra’s temple. He could hear the rest of the attackers filing in beside him and saw several of them hurry to flank the Phantom. One of them bent down and retrieved Ezra’s lightsaber from where he must have dropped it when he fell.  
“Stand down or boy dies!” the alien holding Ezra yelled in heavily accented Basic.

Kanan didn’t move, his eyes boring into the speaker. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“Kanan Jarrus,” the alien answered. “Escaped jedi. Empire large bounty.”

Ezra gasped for air. His head was getting light.

Kanan lowered his blaster just slightly. “You’re after a jedi for Imperial bounty? You must be stupider than you look. There are no more jedi, and the Empire never pays it debts.”  
The leader rattled off something else in his native tongue and one of his associates produced a data pad. Ezra caught enough of a glimpse of the screen to see that it had Kanan’s picture, along with the bold headline, “Convicted Imperial Criminal Confirmed to be Jedi. Armed and Highly Dangerous. Wanted Dead or Alive.” The alien held it up for Kanan to see and the leader insisted, “You Jarrus. Jedi. Come with no fight, boy live. You fight, boy dies.”

Kanan slowly holstered his blaster. “Well then. As long as you know who I am.” 

The gun pointed at Ezra suddenly went flying into Kanan’s outstretched hand. Then in the same swift motion, he made a gesture like a shove, and it was the alien himself who went flying. Ezra stumbled to his knees as chaos erupted around him. He took several gulps of air, commanding his vision to clear. He looked up to see Kanan’s lightsaber blazing through the air in a propeller motion as blaster fire converged on him from all angles. It created a solid shield before him that deflected the shots away. Many found their mark and the aliens fell. Ezra stared at his master in awe. He had never seen him perform this particular move before. When had he learned to do that? More importantly, when would he teach Ezra to do it?

Zeb sprinted to Ezra’s side and yanked him up by his arm. “C’mon kid! We have to move!”

The boy got his feet under him, but as soon as he took a step he crumpled again with a yelp. Only belatedly did he remember that he had been shot in the leg. He glanced down and noticed red liquid staining his orange jumpsuit. Zeb saw it too. Without preamble, he lifted Ezra up by his belt, swung him over his shoulder, and turned back to the ship.  
“Put me down! I can walk!” Ezra insisted, embarrassed despite the desperate situation.

“Shut yer mouth and keep your head down!” Zeb replied gruffly. He shoved one of the aliens out of the way as he ran.

From his awkward position, the young padawan caught sight of something that made him jerk. “Wait! My lightsaber!”

He wriggled out of a very angry Zeb’s grasp, ignoring the “Kid!” and the string of curses that followed. He hobbled quickly, practically hopping on one foot, over to the alien that still held his lightsaber. The brute had two companions splayed on the ground beside him. With flashing eyes, he was focused on landing a hit on the jedi with his one-handed weapon as he tightly grasped the saber hilt with his other hand. Ezra took advantage of his distracted state. Reaching out with the Force, he called the lightsaber to himself.

At least, that’s what he meant to do. The weapon did rise up into the air, but it did not leave the alien’s clutches. Instead it strained against his hand, causing him to start. His attention snapped to Ezra. With a scowl he turned his blaster on the boy.

A primal cry shook the air, accompanied by a whir of violet-shaded electricity. Zeb planted the end of his bo-staff squarely in the alien’s chest. The brute jerked for a full three seconds before going limp. The lightsaber clattered to the ground. Ezra hastily limped in and scooped it up.

“You are gonna be the death of me!!” Zeb roared.

“Sorry, but this is kind of important!” Ezra insisted, hugging his unique weapon to his chest.

A sudden chill shot down his spine. He powered up his saber just in time to whip around and bounce a shot off of its blue blade that had been aimed at Zeb’s back. The attackers nearest to them were shouting to each other in their rough language. Surprisingly, three of them broke from the main group and ran off. Ezra had no time to wonder where they might be headed. About half of the remaining force switched their fire from Kanan to Ezra and Zeb. 

“C’mon then!” Zeb cried, swinging at the closest alien.

Ezra’s heart pounded. Focus! he commanded himself. This was just like practice with Sabine and Chopper. Only instead of blocking stun blasts and small electric shocks he was deflecting full powered blaster bolts from enormous ambushers that wanted to kill him… Had there only been one or two, he would have taken the chance of rushing them with his lightsaber. As it was, there was no way he could mount any sort of offense. 

Feel, don’t think. Feel, don’t think. Ezra repeated the phrase as he frantically tried to empty himself and let the Force determine his movements. It was working so far. He slashed his blade right, then left, then horizontal, each in time catching a shot. He did not worry about trying to direct them back at their targets. For now he did well just to stay alive.

He felt Zeb elbow his back. The lasat began taking slow steps toward the Phantom, brandishing his weapon all the way. Ezra kept facing the crowd, but mimicked his crewmate’s steps. Slowly, they edged toward their means of escape.

They went several crucial paces before Ezra felt Zeb jerk suddenly against his back. With a grunt that sounded more like a growl, the lasat went down on one knee, clutching at his neck.

“Zeb!” Ezra couldn’t help but let his focus falter. A red bolt whizzed just centimeters from the side of his face as he glanced back at his companion. 

A shadow fell over them. Ezra looked up in time to see Kanan sail overhead with a Force-infused jump. He landed between his friends and the main part of the horde, lightsaber flaring. “Get him to the ship!” he shouted without looking back.

“Right!” Ezra shifted his weapon to one hand. He bent down and shoved his other shoulder under Zeb’s arm, pushing with his legs until the heavy lasat was on his feet. Zeb blinked several times and gave his head a shake. He leaned heavily on Ezra, still clutching at his neck. Ezra’s leg sent stabs of fire throughout his whole body with each step he took. But he would just have to worry about that later. They were going to make it out of this together!

The two trudged as quickly as they could to the ramp of the Phantom as Kanan held their enemies’ attention. He took slow, backwards steps after them. 

Ezra had one foot on the ramp when he felt it. A sudden loss through the Force. Kanan let out a choking noise an instant later. Ezra whipped around, dragging Zeb with him.  
He saw his master, somewhat silhouetted against the bright lights of Nar Shaddaa, stagger in place as a pointed dart stuck out from his thigh. One of the aliens shouted. Almost as one, they all stopped firing their weapons and instead stood and watched the jedi go down. Kanan’s lightsaber deactivated as it fell from his hand. His body seemed to methodically lose strength, limb by limb, until he crumpled onto his side. 

Ezra felt the blood drain from his face. He knew what it felt like when Kanan was asleep, or even unconscious. As long as they were in close enough proximity, he could always feel his presence as a sort of heartbeat on the edge of his mind. But now… Nothing. Like a light shutting off, there was a gaping emptiness in the Force where Kanan’s signature was supposed to be. This was no tranquilizer.

“No…” His mouth felt dry. “No.” His heart hammered against his ribcage. “No!”

Ezra untangled himself from Zeb and sprinted forward. The stunned lasat still seemed a little sluggish, but kept his footing. Ezra cleared the last few steps in one long leap. He had no idea exactly how he did it, but as his feet reconnected with the ground in front of Kanan, he sent out a blast of Force energy. A powerful wave pushed all of the startled aliens back several yards. Before they could get up and start shooting at him again, Ezra snatched his comm off of his belt. “Hera, we need an evac, now!” 

“Copy Spectre Six, what’s your location?” Hera’s replied. 

A blaster bolt narrowly missed Ezra’s ear. One of the aliens had recovered faster than the rest. Ezra racked his brain trying to remember if Kanan had told them the name of the street before they landed here. “I don’t know, but Kanan is down! Zeb’s hurt!” Two more blaster bolts came at him and he barely got his lightsaber up in time. The head alien was yelling something at the others as they all scrambled back to their feet.

“Just hang on Spectre Six! We’ll be right there! Are you at the last drop sight?” Hera’s voice took on that hard edge that often characterized her worry. 

Ezra never had a chance to answer her. The attackers were all aiming their guns squarely at him now. He backed up until he had one foot on either side of Kanan’s body. Remembering Kanan’s battle with the Inquisitor, Ezra replaced his comm on his belt and called his master’s lightsaber into his left hand. He ignited it and held both sabers up in front of him. Not that he had any idea how to successfully dual wield, but the aliens didn’t know that. “Stay back!” he shouted at them.

“Spectre Six?” Hera tried again, desperation creeping into her tone.

Suddenly the stupor Zeb had been forced into by the sudden loss of blood seemed to lessen. Ezra heard him clamoring toward him. “I’m gonna give you horn-faced freaks two seconds...” 

Another warning from the Force shook Ezra. He knew what was about to happen. He whirled around and thrust both hands towards Zeb. The lasat was pushed off his feet and went flying backwards straight into the Phantom. With another sweep of his hand, Ezra brought the ramp up with a clang, successfully sealing the vessel shut. A split second later, a dart clinked off the metal and fell harmlessly to the ground. There. At least he could save one of his friends. He hoped he hadn’t made Zeb’s injury too much worse.

As he turned back around to face the crowd, he noticed that everything looked rather fuzzy. Only then did he register the pain blossoming from a pin prick on his shoulder. That arm quickly went numb.

Oh Karabast…

He heard both lightsabers shut down as they slipped through his fingers. He stumbled back, tripping over Kanan. His jelly legs wouldn’t support his weight. All of his thoughts became muddled. He vaguely acknowledged that he was supposed to be protecting someone.

“Spectre Six! ...Ezra!” Hera’s voice was the last thing he heard.


	2. Chapter 2

“The bounty contract was for one jedi, not two!”

“You should not be so surprised that the master was found with his apprentice beside him.”

“I lost eighteen of my Morgukai warriors to them! Eighteen!”

“A well-known risk for hunting jedi. Even for nikto bounty hunters such as yourselves. I did warn you not to underestimate them.”

Ezra heard the voices floating to him through a hazy fog. Who was that? They didn’t sound familiar. His eyelids felt like lead, but he forced them open. He was surprised to find everything dark. Where was he again? This didn’t feel like his bunk on the Ghost. He was laying on something hard. And why was it so cold?

“I brought forty Morgukai based on your ‘warnings.’ You said it would be enough!”

“And according to you, you have the jedi in custody. I do not see the issue here.”

Awareness hit Ezra like a bucket of ice water. He remembered what had happened before he lost consciousness. Kanan! He shot up quickly--and immediately regretted it. Dizziness assailed him. The room spun as he tumbled back down onto his back. His head pounded against a metal floor.

He took two deep breaths, waiting for his senses to level out. Honestly, he was a little surprised to be alive right now. Either the dart that brought him down contained something different than the one that hit Kanan, or there was a good chance that his master was alive too. Ezra pushed away his headache, willing his mind to focus. He reached out to the Force. 

...And felt nothing. Not only was there a lack of Kanan’s presence, now there was no presence at all. He couldn’t feel anything. Not the pulse of living beings, not the gentle hum of the land, not the whisper of premonition. Ezra had only known he was Force-sensitive for under a year, but he now realized that even before that time, there had always been...something. He used to chalk it up to sheer dumb luck. It was how he had always managed to stay one step ahead of the recipients of his thieving and trouble-making. It was what helped him survive for so long on his own. To now so suddenly be without it left a bitter taste in his mouth. What have they done to me?

He tried sitting up again, slowly this time. He became aware of every ache plaguing his stiff body. Just how long had he been out? His injured leg felt like it had a knife sticking through it. It had not been bandaged or cleaned, but at least it looked like the blood had clotted on its own. Ezra reached a hand up to rub his sore neck. He started in surprise when his fingers landed on something metal instead of flesh. He quickly felt around with both hands.

His neck seemed to be encased by a metallic ring that hummed softly. A shock collar? Seriously? Ezra had only heard about such things. They were apparently common in the slave market, but were not something the Empire made much use of. Just who were these guys?

Now that his eyes were adjusting, Ezra could see that he appeared to be in some kind of small cell. The room was devoid of furniture and had no door to speak of, but the ceiling was made out of a metal grate with narrow slits. That must be how they put him in here. Dim blue light poured down in small shafts. The light was blocked out temporarily as a bulky body paced on top of the grate. Ezra could not make out much of the person’s features from this angle, but his footsteps were heavy. He heard him say in a baritone, gravelly voice, “The issue is that the Force-suppressors that we had were intended for one jedi, and were supposed to last the entirety of the trip! We had to use all of it just to capture them both alive.” 

Force-suppressors? Is that what they used on him? Some kind of drug that blocked his connection to the Force? Ezra hadn’t known such a thing was even possible. Of course to be fair, there was a lot he didn’t know about the Force. Maybe it had something to do with the midichlorians, or whatever they were called. Perhaps someone had found a chemical that could drown out their effects for a time.

“You could have killed them,” the second voice reasoned calmly. “You still can, if you like. There is still a reward for delivering him dead.” This speaker sounded muffled, as if talking over a holo call. His clipped tone was unmistakably Imperial, but Ezra didn’t recognize who it was.

“Less than half!” the first person spat back. “The reward for delivering the jedi dead is less than half of what it is for bringing him alive! Unless your offer has changed.” His accent sounded the same as the aliens (nikto he had called them?) that attacked the rebels earlier, but this one’s Basic was much more solid.

“The offer stands,” the Imperial replied. “And so again, I really don’t see the problem, Captain.”

“I expect double payment when I deliver you both jedi alive,” the nikto demanded. “Plus a service charge to replace the men I lost.”

“You can’t honestly expect that,” the Imperial answered evenly. “It’s no business of ours how many men you lost. If the jedi were too much for you to capture without great loss, then you should have just killed them from the beginning.”

The nikto hissed something that sounded like a swear in his native language. “You have obviously never seen a jedi in person,” he said. “Your estimations were wrong. They cannot just be killed. We tried. They knew. They always knew where we would be.”

“We’ll negotiate payment for the apprentice when you arrive, but your struggles in acquiring the cargo are your own. We hold all the cards here, Captain. If you choose to kill the jedi before they can wake up and cause you more trouble, and then bring us their bodies as proof, you will be paid the agreed upon amount, and the Empire’s enemies will be dead. If you manage to contain them until you arrive and deliver them alive, you will also be paid and the Empire will have a valuable source of rebel information. If you choose to jettison them now out of defiance to us, then they will still be dead, and you will not be paid. No matter what you decide, the Empire cannot lose.”

Ezra could see the nikto cross his arms stubbornly. “The Empire is not the only party interested in a pair of jedi. Do you think we have slave collars laying around our ship for no reason? The hutts provide quite a profitable market for sentient workers on Nar Shaddaa. I’m sure two from the almost extinct race of the jedi would fetch a handsome price.”  
The Imperial hesitated. “Do you honestly think the hutts would honor any sort of deal you made with them? Everyone knows you can’t trust a hutt.”

“But you can trust the Empire to honor their deals?”

The sneer in the response was evident. “Do not compare us to such lowlifes. ...I will speak to my superiors about the compensation fee for the boy. Sending you our coordinates for your hyperspace jump now.”

“We are not heading your way until a deal is set. In orbit above Nar Shaddaa is exactly where I need to be if your offer falls flat and I need to contact the hutts instead.”

The Imperial sounded frustrated now. “So be it. We will contact you with a new offer as soon as we have one. Just don’t let your valuable assets escape in the meantime.”

“Oh don’t worry agent,” the nikto replied smugly. “According to your sources, the serum should keep them out and inhibited for at least 6 hours. It’s only been two. But take too long to decide your new price and we won’t take the risk of keeping them.”

Ezra heard an irritated sigh before the blue light above his cell disappeared, marking the end of the holo call. He quickly laid back down and shut his eyes. He heard the footsteps stomp his way and the clang of the nikto stepping on his grate. The alien seemed to pause there for a moment and then moved a few more steps. After another pause, he stalked away. There came the sound of a door whooshing up and closing, and then silence. Ezra waited at least a minute more before daring to move. 

He sat back up and immediately went to work. There wasn’t much time. The good news was that he was apparently on a ship that was still in orbit above Nar Shaddaa, which meant that Hera wouldn’t be too far away. The bad news was that he had no way to contact her and tell her where he was. Naturally his captors had confiscated his lightsaber and his communicator, but he doubted they had checked all of his secret pockets. He had quite a few. It was one of the reasons he had refused to get a new wardrobe even when the Ghost crew had offered to replace his ragged street clothes. 

Ezra dug deep into his left sleeve until his fingers closed around a small, thin object. He didn’t have the Force, and he didn’t have a proper screwdriver, but he had gotten out of scrapes with less in the past. He produced the lockpick, and then stood to examine the grate. Unsurprisingly, it had an automated lock on one side. Without his tools, he wouldn’t be able to slice it. But the other side of the grate was screwed to the floor above with regular door hinges.

He had to stand on his toes on his one good leg while gingerly resting the other against the wall. He dug the pick into the nearest screw and turned it to the left over and over again. The process was agonizingly slow. Any second now, the Imperials could call back to present their new bounty offer, bringing his captors back into the room. He systematically attacked each screw as sweat beaded up on his forehead and his leg throbbed.

Finally, every screw he could reach was loose. After taking a deep breath, he gave a one-legged hop, thrusting his palms flat against the grate. It gave a loud screech as metal slid against metal. The hinges jerked, but did not fall off. Ezra paused, waiting to see if the noise would attract attention. After several seconds passed and no one appeared, he jumped again.

The hinges shook free and went clattering onto the floor. Ezra waited again, but luckily the nikto had either found something very distracting or were overly confident in the power of their serum. With a final hop, he hoisted himself out of the cell and onto the main floor.

The room was dark. It was circular in shape, had no windows, and only the one doorway. He did a quick scan of the walls and ceilings. No ventilation shaft. Drat. He tried to find anything else that might be useful. A few empty crates sat in one corner, but aside from that the only object in the room was the holo projector. It sat in the dead center of a circle of grated flooring. More cells, possibly. Although this honestly looked more like cargo hold than a brig. He saw several locks on the floor that looked newer than the accompanying hinges, leading Ezra to believe that this ship had probably been designed to stow cargo, but had since been converted to contain prisoners.

In the dim lighting, he limped carefully around the small space and peered through the grating. In the cell adjacent to his, he could just make out a long figure in green crumpled up against the wall.

“Kanan!” he cried as loud as he dared. He tried to reach out to him with the Force--and then remembered that he couldn’t. Instead he knelt down and pressed his ear against the floor. He could make out the soft sound of slow breathing. Good. So the nikto hadn’t lied when he claimed to have captured him alive.

“Don’t worry Kanan,” he whispered. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

How exactly he was going to do that was another issue. While his mind started brainstorming, he set about loosening the screws on the door to his master’s cell. 

His first priority should be getting a message to Hera, he decided. But how was he going to do that without his communicator? As the last screw fell loose he glanced behind him at the holo table. Could it be possible that it wasn’t encrypted? He supposed it was worth a shot. Pocketing the lockpick, he approached the projector and gave its power button an experimental tap. To his surprise, the console responded immediately and asked him for his desired transmission code.

Man, these nikto were dumb. If he could get a message out to Hera and then fiddle with the wiring a bit so that the transmitter was disabled, then the Imperials would not be able to get back with his captors before help arrived. Ezra punched in the code for the main Ghost line. Static and a glitchy, formless blue light resulted.

“Hello?” he said quietly. “Is anyone there? This is Spectre Six calling the Ghost. Come in.”

A droid’s babble suddenly answered in a frantic voice.

Ezra winced. “Chopper, quiet! I don’t have much time. Let me talk to Hera.”

Chopper shouted some more and Ezra searched for the volume control on the table.

Hera’s face flickered into view. “Spectre Six, we read you! Where are you? Is Spectre One with you?”

“He’s here,” Ezra confirmed. “Just unconscious. Do you have Spectre Four? Is he alright?”

“He’ll live,” Hera replied solemnly. “Whatever you did to close the Phantom really sealed it up tight. The people that ambushed you couldn’t get to him and decided it wasn’t worth it to try. We picked him up and Chopper had to weld a hole in the door just to get it to open.”

“Sorry,” he said with a grimace. “At least it worked.”

“What’s your location?”

“We’re in a bounty hunter ship in orbit somewhere above Nar Shaddaa. Apparently the Empire has a hefty bounty out for Spectre One after his escape from Mustafar. I heard one of the hunters talking to an Imperial and negotiating a price to deliver both of us. Luckily it sounds like we’re worth more alive than dead.”

A frown creased Hera’s brow. “How are you contacting us? Did they leave you with your comm?”

“No, I’m borrowing their holo projector for now. Can you trace it to our location?”

Sabine appeared beside Hera. “I can trace it...I think. Specs are coming in now.” She copied their captain’s expression. “Quite clearly actually… There’s no encryption at all.”

Ezra wasn’t one to second guess his good luck. “Good. I have no idea how many people are on this ship, so I can’t say what kind of opposition you’ll be facing. I don’t even know how big this ship is...” He glanced behind him, praying that the door would remain closed.

“Ezra! What do you have on your neck?” Sabine said with sudden alarm.

He looked at her holo image and rubbed the collar with one hand. “Uh, I don’t know. A shock collar I guess?”

“That’s no shock collar. That’s a localized detonator!” 

Hera’s eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’d recognize the design anywhere. They’re rare, even on the black market.”

“A localized what?” Ezra sputtered, trying not to panic.

“It’s a detonator. It has a chip inside that’s set to explode if you cross a certain boundary. Or sometimes there’s a remote trigger. Slave owners will often put the chips inside a person’s body, but if there’s not time for that, then the collar works too. They’re almost impossible to get off. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

Ezra withdrew his hand as if the metal had bitten him. “H-how do I disable it?”

“Mmm, I’m not exactly sure, I’ve never had to do it before. If I was there, I’m sure I could play with it. But for now look around. Do you see a flat disc anywhere with a red light? Maybe on the wall or the ceiling?”

He swiveled around. His eyes landed immediately on a small blinking light tucked high up on the wall above the door. “Yeah.”

“That’s the trigger. Whatever you do, do not get too close to it.”

Ezra scooted a bit closer to the holo table. “How am I supposed to get out of here? It’s attached to the only door!”

“Just sit tight,” Hera answered. She moved her hands swiftly as if pressing multiple buttons on the Ghost’s control panel. “We’re on the way.”

Ezra started. “All by yourselves?” It was one thing when their crew went on a mission all together, but with he and Kanan captured and unable to use the Force, Zeb out of commission, and a potential army between them, he did not like the idea of Hera, Sabine and Chopper staging a rescue on their own. He was counting on them calling for backup from the Rebellion. “Can’t you contact Fulcrum?”

“We called her as soon as we lost contact with you. But the fleet is still where we left them. We may not have the time to wait.”

He opened his mouth to protest when suddenly the connection went dead. The images of Hera and Sabine flickered out abruptly. “Hera? Hey!” He frantically pushed the power button.

The door whooshed open behind him. “You know for a jedi, you’re a bit of a disappointment. And every bit as predictable as I expected.”

Ezra whirled around. The nikto that had made the call earlier stood in the doorway with crossed arms. He was flanked on either side by two others of his species, both taller and more muscular than he and holding long blaster rifles. Ezra recognized one of them as the leader of the attack on Nar Shaddaa.

Ezra automatically dropped into a defensive stance, pretending that it didn’t send shocks of pain up his leg. “What do you mean?” he demanded.

“I mean you’ve fallen prey to my genius. I heard you waking up earlier boy, so I knew if I let you overhear my little conversation with our Imperial friend, you would come to understand your desperate situation. Desperation is a powerful motivator. All I had to do then was leave you alone with a means for open transmission, wait for you to find a way out of your cell, and let you contact the rest of your rebels. Now as soon as they arrive, we can collect the bounty for the lot of you.” He pulled a data pad from inside his jacket and scanned through something. “You all have quite a sum sitting on your heads. You must have really stuck one to the Empire, eh? The highest bounty is for the jedi of course, but when my men found a boy with a laser sword alongside him, I decided to look into it a little deeper before I alerted the Imperials.”

Ezra clenched his teeth. “Well you’re just out of luck then,” he growled. “No one knows we’re here. They’re not coming.”

The captain frowned, seeming to lose his smug attitude. “Don’t bother lying to me, boy. We heard your entire transmission. Oh, and your friend was right. If you so much as set one foot over this threshold, your collar will detonate, and we’ll have newly painted red walls.” He said something in another language to the two guards and then turned to go.  
The nikto strode forward and each grabbed Ezra by an arm. “You’ll regret this!” he yelled as fear chilled his bones. “We have powerful friends!”

“You aren’t the only one,” the captain commented casually over his shoulder as he exited the room.

One of the guards grumbled and pointed at the loosened door to Ezra’s original space. The other one responded in kind as he keyed open a new cell and roughly tossed the young jedi down into it. The grate slammed shut above his head. This time, the nikto did not leave. He could see them both take a seat on top of the empty crates next to his compartment.

“I mean it! You’ll really be sorry!” he shouted defiantly. “We have an army of jedi! They’ll take you all out! And did I mention the Emperor is my uncle?!”

One of the nikto barked something that sounded vaguely like “Quiet!” at him before turning to his companion to converse in their own language.

Ezra slammed one fist against the cold wall. Great. Just great. Hera was going to jump straight into a trap. They were all going to be captured and handed over to the Empire. Every last one of them. And it was entirely his fault.

If it hadn’t been for his leg, he would have started pacing. Think. He had to think. There was always a way out. Always.

He couldn’t sweet talk himself out of this one. Most of his captors didn’t understand Basic anyway. He couldn’t use the Force, at least not right now. He wondered how long the effects would actually last. He didn’t trust what the captain said. If it was really supposed to last six hours, then why had he woken up after only two? Then on the other hand, why hadn’t Kanan woken up yet? Maybe they used a lower dose on Ezra?

He took a long breath. No harm in trying again. He reached out to search for the Force. He felt...something. A little tickle on the edge of his mind. It still felt blocked though. Like a muffled voice from far away. He supposed that was progress. Still, it wasn’t enough for him to help Hera before it was too late.

With a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand over his face. And that’s when it hit him. He stared at his wrist. His slingshot! They hadn’t bothered to take it! They must not have realized what it was. How had he not noticed until now? A plan rapidly unfolded before his eyes. 

The first part involved an act that had worked successfully for him many times in the past: make your jailers think you’re dying. Especially if they’re going to get a bigger payout for keeping you alive.

Ezra doubled over and started coughing. He took a deep breath from his chest and really hacked, letting the mucus build in his throat. He rasped and coughed and banged on the walls of his cell. Between wheezes he said weakly, “Please, help me…”

Right on cue, a shadow fell over his cage as the guards hussled over. Ezra coughed once more and then collapsed on the floor. One of them shouted something to the other one. He heard a beep and a click as the door to his cell was unlocked, and then a creak as it swung open. 

Quick as a flash, Ezra sat up and let loose an orange ball of energy from his slingshot. The nikto that had leaned over to check on the prisoner got the full blast in his face. With a yowl he stumbled backwards, running into his companion. Ezra took advantage of their confusion to scramble out into the open. He kept firing a constant stream at them both.   
The guard that took the initial blast covered his eyes with one hand and flailed with the other, which meant that his weapon tumbled to the ground. Ezra dove for it. He hoisted the heavy gun awkwardly against his shoulder as the second nikto struggled to regain his footing. He was not overly familiar with rifles; this one was quite a bit different than Zeb’s. But it had standard settings, which meant a simple mechanism on the barrel should change it from regular shots to stun bolts. Probably. Ezra took his chance and fired on the second guard.

A blue ring of light burst forth and found its target. The nikto jerked and then went limp. Ezra wasted no time in stunning the other one. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when they both lay motionless on the floor.

So much for the easy part. Ezra dropped the rifle and limped over to the unconscious guards. He confiscated their comlinks and keycards. Then with a mighty shove that took way more effort than he was expecting, he dumped one of them into his open cell and sealed the door. After keying open another cell, he did the same for the second guard. By the time that was done, sweat was trickling down his neck. Next time he saw Zeb, he needed to remember to thank him for being “the muscle” on their usual missions. It was hard work, especially when one of your legs felt like it was on fire. 

Ezra took a quick moment to breathe. Ok. Now to warn Hera.

Not surprisingly, he found that the room’s holo table still had its power externally cut. He examined one of the guards’ comlinks. Maybe he could figure out how to slice it so that it could broadcast a signal to the Ghost instead of the other nikto.

Just then a deep rumble shook the ship. A second later another one came, this one more powerful. Ezra had to raise his arms to keep his balance. He could hear shouts of alarm ringing through the hallway somewhere beyond the door. Could Hera be here already?

He flipped on the comlink. Excited voices screamed over each other in the nikto language. If only he could understand it! Where was Sabine when he needed her? At least in Imperial captivity Ezra could have shouted confusing orders in the guise of a storm trooper. Oh well. No time to waste. 

He produced another lockpick and went to work picking apart the small comm. The cover popped off the side fairly easily. He brought the device close to his eye to examine the intricate wiring inside. He could take the whole thing apart and put it back together again with ease, but changing the frequency was a more delicate matter. Something like that was usually Sabine’s department. He wedged his pick inside and carefully prodded the main transmitter.

Another shock travelled through the infrastructure of the ship. Someone must have been firing on them from the outside. He expected the shields to hold for a while though. What could Hera have been planning, grabbing their attention like that? How was it a rescue if the ship was destroyed and the prisoners along with it? Either this was a ruse to distract the nikto…. or it wasn’t Hera. He had to know for sure. He poked at the blue wire connected to the transmitter. If he could get it to reset, perhaps he could enter a new code.

After a full fifteen minutes of meticulous work, the commlink finally rebooted, its memory wiped. By then his feet had become accustomed to the vibrations rattling the floor. He had to hand it to the nikto, they had some powerful shields on this ship. When the comm came back online, he gave it the appropriate code verbally. At first, only static resulted.  
“Hello? This is Spectre Six to Spectre Two. Do you read me?”

Static. Suddenly he got a sinking feeling in his stomach. What if his friends were losing the battle outside?”

“Spectre Six to Ghost. Please tell me you’re still out there.”

“I read you Spectre Six,” Hera’s very crackly voice answered. “Are you all—? We were worried—lost your transmission.”

Ezra felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. “I’m okay. What about you? Are you the one attacking this ship?”

“—Cutting out Spectre Six. Stay where you---we’re en route. Keep your comm open so we can—” Her voice dissolved into static.

“You’re en route? So you’re not here yet?”

There was no answer, but at least now he knew his crew were not the ones getting shot at. Not yet. That must mean someone else had decided to pick on the bounty hunters. Good. If they were distracted enough, maybe they wouldn’t notice a couple of missing prisoners. If he could manage to get Kanan to an escape pod, the Ghost could retrieve them without the need for a fight. Now he just needed to figure out how to get out of this room without blowing up…

Ezra heard something large snap just outside the door. Then suddenly he was flying backwards. He slammed hard against the back wall a moment later and slid down to the floor in a heap. Everything flashed white in his eyes. Heat assailed him. All he could hear for one long minute was a high-pitched ringing.   
As his vision slowly faded back into existence, he felt around on his hands and knees. There was shrapnel everywhere. He wasn’t sure what exactly had exploded, but it must have been bad. The door to the cargo hold was split near the bottom and bent just enough for a stream of smoke to come trailing into the room. He could hear deep voices shouting frantically in the distance.

He tasted blood in his mouth. Pain sunk in from various parts of his body now, not just his leg. Most notable was the sharp sensation spreading from the back of his head. He must have hit the wall pretty good. 

Suddenly the room tilted. Ezra thought he was losing his sense of balance until he saw that everything on the floor was sliding to one side. Then he realized what must have happened: they had lost the shields. Whoever was attacking them was not aiming to distract, but to destroy. The ship was going down. 

Oh no. No, no, no, not on his watch. He just got Kanan back from Mustafar; he wasn’t about to lose him to some blasted bounty hunters. They were getting out of here.   
He crawled to Kanan’s cell and peered through the grate. His master was still out cold. They really must have used a heavier dose of serum on him. Ezra had to get him out...there had to be a way… He tried to think through the pain. 

All at once a new set of voices joined the chorus of shouting. These, while male, were not at all like the nikto. They were smoother and not as deep. They spoke in hurried Huttese, the second most common language in the galaxy. Ezra knew a few words. As a matter of fact, it was the language spoken by--

The refugees! He recognized the voice of the first twi’lek they had met with that day; the one who could not stop thanking Kanan for his kindness. What were they doing here? Ezra inched a tad closer to the busted door. “Hello?” he called out.

The voices abruptly fell silent. He could just see a pair of boots through the newly formed crack in the door. “Spectre Six?” the twi’lek answered.

Ezra could have fainted with relief. His code name had never sounded so wonderful. “We’re in here! Can you get us out?”

More pairs of feet ran up to join the first. “We’re here to rescue you! Hold on!”

The newcomers spoke quickly to one another as they shuffled around outside the door. “The panel is broken!” the twi’lek reported. “Are you restrained?”

Ezra looked at the sparking control panel next to the doorframe. It must have been damaged on both sides. No hope of opening the door the regular way. “Well no, but we can’t go near the door. Any of you guys happen to know how to disable a detonation trigger?”

“Detonation?” the twi’lek echoed. The word sounded a bit strange in his accent and Ezra wondered if something was getting a bit lost in translation. “We had three bombs, but we had to use them to get this far into the ship. None left to blow the door!”

Suddenly another explosion rocked the ship. The floor tilted a little more. The feet outside stumbled, struggling to maintain their balance. Ezra looked at the stubbornly blinking disc on the wall. He still had the nikto’s rifle. He wondered if destroying the trigger would disable the collars or make them explode. Really, it was about a fifty-fifty chance either way. He glanced down at Kanan again, weighing the risk. 

And that’s when he realized that the collar around Kanan’s neck was different. It was wider than his and had two protrusions sticking out from the back that looked an awful lot like conduits for an electrical current. A shock collar! The bounty hunters either did not have as many slave collars as they claimed or they were very confident in the amount of Force-suppressor they had given Kanan. Which meant that if the detonator did blow, it would only affect Ezra. 

He scooped up the rifle. That was a chance he was willing to take. Before he had even raised the gun into position however, he paused. What good would it do, even if the trigger was disabled? They still couldn’t get to their rescuers. Not without a way to get through the busted door. If only he knew what they’d done with his lightsaber! If Sabine were here, she’d have plenty of charges to blow it open with. But there was no time to wait for her to arrive. All he needed was one good bomb.

His fingers found his collar. He had a bomb. If he could get close enough to the door, maybe jump at it, then the resulting blast might just be enough to clear an opening for the refugees to come in and get Kanan. Ezra swallowed hard.

The ship rumbled violently. There wasn’t time to debate this with himself. The life support systems could go at any moment. Still, he found that he couldn’t get his feet to move. The rifle fell from his grasp as his hands trembled and his heart hammered in his chest. Just do it, he told himself. You’re running out of time. Do it now. It’s the only way to save Kanan. 

The faces of his friends, his new family, flashed through his mind. If he did this, he would never see them again. Hera, who almost never talked about herself, but always wanted to make sure that he was alright. Chopper, who showed, despite his best efforts to deny it, that he cared deeply about his crew. Zeb, whose gruff exterior concealed a fierce loyalty. Sabine, whose optimism gave him hope even in the darkest times. Kanan…

Suddenly Kanan’s voice filled his mind. All of us have lost things. And we will take more losses before this is over. But we can't let that stop us from taking risks. We have to move forward. And when the time comes, we have to be ready to sacrifice for something bigger.

Ezra blinked. He understood. He finally understood what his master had been trying to teach him that day. Kanan had demonstrated it when he let himself get captured at the communication tower so that his crew could escape. Now Ezra could follow his example.

“Spectre Six?” the twi’lek called uncertainly.

“Stand back from the door,” he answered resolutely. “I have a way to blast it open. Once it’s clear, come in and get us, okay?”

The refugee hesitated and then said, “We’ll do as you say. Hurry!” He may have suspected what was about to happen, but thankfully did not try to talk Ezra out of it.

As the ship rumbled precariously and smoke swelled ever greater in the room, Ezra clenched the commlink tightly in one hand. Somehow, he’d managed to hold onto it. He flipped the transmitter off and switched it to plain audio recording mode. “Kanan,” he said into the device, “sorry it had to be this way. I wish there was another way out, but this time there’s not. Please tell everyone I said goodbye, and thanks for everything. These past few months have been the best of my life. Really. You taught me so much. All of you did. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you preserve the jedi teachings after all. I guess you and Ahsoka will have to take it from here. ...May the Force be with you, Master.”

He was amazed at the sense of peace that came over him as soon as he stopped recording. He was doing the right thing, and it was going to work. Perhaps some amount of premonition was beginning to filter back to him. He bent down to Kanan’s cell and keyed it open. Leaning over, he tucked the commlink securely inside one of the pouches on his friend’s belt. Hopefully, he would find it later. Ezra closed the door again, but did not lock it. That would provide Kanan shelter from the blast, but would still allow the refugees to pull him out quickly.

Ezra stood and faced the door. He took a deep breath in. This was it. He settled into a crouch, ignoring the pain in his leg. In a minute that wouldn’t matter anymore anyway. With another steadying breath, he sprinted forward and jumped for the door.

xXxXxXx

“Wake up Caleb Dume. ...Wake up!”

Caleb seemed to be...floating. Floating in pure darkness. He could not see anything. Where exactly was he? He did not recall how he got here.

“Wake up Caleb!”

That voice...it was Master Billaba’s. Had he fallen asleep? Was this a dream? The form of his master faded into view. But she looked different. She was like a being of pure light, stark against the blackness. Why was she glowing? 

“Master?” he managed to say. For some reason his voice sounded sluggish.

“Caleb, you need to return. Your padawan is about to die.”

His padawan… That didn’t make sense. Caleb was the padawan. He didn’t have one of his own yet. 

Master Billaba drew closer. Strangely, he found that he had to look down at her. Had she gotten shorter, or was he unusually tall? Her solemn brown eyes were filled with compassion.

“You must go now, my apprentice. He is going to sacrifice himself for you, but you must not allow it. You both have an important destiny to fulfill. Together.”

Caleb blinked slowly. Nothing made sense. Why was his head so fuzzy? He could not seem to process anything she said. His Master stretched out one hand. “I will help you as much as I am able,” she said. “But this will be the only time that I can.”

The instant her hand touched his arm, a flood of Force energy rushed into him. He remembered that he was no longer Caleb Dume; he was Kanan Jarrus. He became aware of everything that had happened around him while he slept. And his padawan—

Ezra!

Kanan’s eyes snapped open.

xXxXxXx

Ezra shut his eyes as soon as his feet left the floor, but he almost choked when he felt himself stop in midair. Blinking, he looked down to find his body hovering at least a foot off the ground. A loud clang from behind caused him to steal a look over his shoulder. The door to Kanan’s cell went flying straight off its hinges and punctured the wall to the left.

Ezra was drawn backwards rapidly. Kanan leapt from his cell in time to catch him with one arm. He firmly gripped his padawan’s shoulder.

“K-Kanan?” Ezra stammered in disbelief. Something was very different. He felt it instantly. Some sort of powerful aura surrounded him. He could feel it flowing into him through Kanan’s hand. How was he so suddenly awake and able to use the Force?

His master scowled down at the detonation collar. He flicked his free hand. Ezra felt the metal fall off of him. With a gasp, he instinctively rubbed the skin on his liberated neck. Kanan kept the open collar suspended in the air in front of them. Then he made a slashing motion and sent it hurtling toward the door.

Ezra never saw the explosion because Kanan swiftly shielded him with his body. He did, however, feel the considerable heat wave that followed. When they both turned to the door a few seconds later, he paled. A long fissure had been rent in the doorway and the wall alike. Everything around, including the hallway outside, was charred black. He felt sick just looking at it. He wondered how none of the chunks of searing metal that rained down around them even came close to harming them, but he suspected Kanan had something to do with it.

Kanan’s hand brushed the back of Ezra’s head. He looked up to see his master frowning again, this time as he examined his fingers. They were stained red.

“Oh.” Ezra reached back and felt for himself. There was a considerable bump forming, and it was indeed wet. In all the excitement he hadn’t had much time to think about where he’d hit his head. “Yeah, about that. I just—oof!”

Kanan surprised him again by hoisting him up onto his back, like a kid taking a piggy-back ride.

“Hey! No really, I’m fine!” he protested, despite the fact that it actually felt wonderful to take the pressure off his leg.

“No arguments,” Kanan snapped firmly. It was somewhat of a relief to hear his voice. Ezra had begun to believe that something was not only different, but wrong. The jedi strode forward with his ward clinging to his back. As he stepped through the crack in the wall and into the hallway, five twi’leks peaked around the corner. When they saw Kanan, they lowered their blasters. Ezra recognized them as the very blasters that had been delivered to them earlier that day. Nice to see they were being put to good use. 

“Spectre Two,” the leader greeted them. “Glad you’re alright.”

“What’s the situation?” Kanan asked in what Ezra recognized as his no-nonsense voice. “Do you have a ship?”

The twi’lek nodded. “This way.”

The lights flickered as they all dashed down the hallway. Debris littered the floor. A few pipes protruded awkwardly from the ceiling, leaking some kind of liquid down the grimy metal walls. Ezra had not seen anything outside of the cargo hold, but he guessed that even a bounty hunter’s ship was not usually in such disrepair.  
“Are you the ones doing this?” Kanan asked the refugees as they ran.

Their leader shook his head, his blue lekku swaying. “Rival nikto gang attacked this ship just as we arrived. The Kintan Kings. Nasty bunch. Known all over Nar Shaddaa. But lucky for us; the Xim’s Blade were too distracted trying to defend themselves to stop us from boarding. Looks like they’re losing though. We heard the shields blow.”

Ezra tightened his grip around Kanan’s collarbone to keep from sliding off. “The rest of our crew is headed this way. They’re in a Corellian VCX-100 light freighter. Have you seen it?”

“No, but there are many freighter ships in this sector. We may have passed them without realizing it.”

“We’ll contact them as soon as we’re on your ship,” Kanan said. “There’s no need for them to get involved at this point.”

As they rounded a corner, Ezra noticed a series of circular doors positioned close together along the wall. Entrances to the escape pods, most likely. According to the display panel beside each one, the pods themselves were not attached. No wonder their group had encountered no resistance so far. Most of the crew had already abandoned ship.

And Ezra couldn’t blame them. They farther they went, the worse conditions got. The smoke became so heavy that it made his eyes water. A shrill alarm was blaring somewhere. Open wires sparked dangerously. He was secretly glad he didn’t have to limp through it all himself, and infinitely grateful that he wasn’t alone and dragging Kanan’s unconscious body.

“We’re almost there!” the leader announced. Ezra had to admit he was impressed by the size of this ship. These nikto must have been a pretty influential gang. Which said something about the gang that was currently demolishing them.

They turned another sharp corner--and skidded to a halt. This hallway was engulfed in flames. Burning nikto bodies were scattered about the floor. A large section of the wall had collapsed directly in their path. The twi’leks looked at each other hopelessly. 

Kanan narrowed his eyes at the scene. “Where’s the entrance?”

The blue twi’lek coughed as he waved at the smoke wafting in his face. “Our ship is docked right through there, but…”  
“Alright. Everyone behind me.”

Their new friends looked bewildered as their leader translated for them, but they must not have seen the point of arguing. Ezra could feel Kanan’s reluctance as they all fell into a single file line behind him. These people may be their allies, but they had not been told that the two humans were jedi. Not even everyone in the Rebellion knew. It wasn’t exactly something they wanted to broadcast. The sad truth was that often times you never really knew who you could trust. But there was nothing for it if they were to get out of this alive. Ezra tried to focus on feelings of reassurance, hoping his master would pick up on it through their bond.

Kanan’s back straightened a bit. He gently released Ezra so that he slid to his feet. “Stay close to me,” he instructed. Ezra watched him raise both hands toward the flames.   
Suddenly that strange aura he had felt earlier swelled. It wrapped around Kanan so strongly that Ezra felt it wash through him even without touching the jedi. As a matter of fact, Ezra could have sworn there was a pale blue glow about Kanan. Debris and bodies shifted themselves out of the way, clearing a path. 

The twi’leks gasped. Ezra glanced back to see them watching with wide eyes. Kanan started walking and they followed in his footsteps. He waved his hands again. Miraculously, the flames around them sputtered out. With each step he took, the floor cooled. When they came to the broken wall, he gestured for them to stop. He clasped his hands together and Ezra watched amazed as the thick durasteel scrunched itself up and then went flying farther down the hall. Kanan strode forward.

The circular hatch in the flooring that allowed access to a docked ship had been partially welded shut from the heat. Kanan made a motion like yanking on a rope and it popped open, sending drops of molten metal flying. “Let’s go!” he called, waving them forward.

The twi’leks remained silent as they cautiously made their way through the hatch and down the ladder into their ship. Ezra let them go first. Just as he moved to follow them, something caught his eye. Among the debris were two familiar objects; one a straight rod and one rectangular. They were lightsaber hilts. “Kanan, look!” 

The jedi immediately saw what he was pointing at. They looked to have fallen off the belt of a nikto that was only just recognizable as the captain. He probably realized that he might not make it out of this with his prisoners intact, but at least a rare weapon could fetch a decent price on the black market. Too bad for him an explosion had changed his plans for good. Kanan called both sabers to him. “Good eye,” he said, tossing Ezra his.

The boy quickly returned his custom weapon to its hook and his belt and then hobbled down the ladder. The ship he dropped into was dark and cramped. It looked to be about twice the size of the Phantom. Two of the twi’leks were at the helm, frantically adjusting the controls. Kanan slid down to join them. He flicked his wrist, and the ship’s door slammed shut. “What’s wrong?” he asked, coming up beside the refugees.

The leader examined the writing scrolling across the control panel. “It says the fuel line has been disconnected! It must have been damaged from the outside!”  
Kanan frowned. “Is it broken? Or just disconnected?”

The twi’lek did a double take at the panel. “I’m...not sure.”

“Let’s find out.” Kanan closed his eyes, holding up one hand. Ezra wished he could help him. He was tempted to try connecting to the Force again, but his headache was coming back with a vengeance. For now, it would be best to leave it to his teacher. 

Their craft rumbled ominously. They needed to detach from the bounty hunter’s dying ship as soon as possible. When it blew, so would they. Finally, Kanan lowered his arm. “Try it now,” he said. 

The refugees activated the controls again. This time the internal lights flicked on, and a reassuring engine hum purred to life. With a decisive snap of the release, they soared away. One of the twi’leks said something in Huttese that sounded like an expression of relief. Even without totally understanding, Ezra couldn’t agree more. He sunk into one of the hard seats lining the wall with a sigh. The refugee that had spoken patted him on the shoulder and smiled. He smiled back instinctively. 

The reprieve didn’t last long. Mere moments after they broke free, their vessel shook as a shot grated against their meager shields. Ezra gripped the edges of his seat. “Where did that come from?”

Kanan hunched, peering out the viewport. “The other nikto gang.”

Ezra limped up behind him and looked too. A ship with a design like he had never seen before hovered hauntingly among the stars. It was smaller than a star destroyer, but still an impressive spectacle. Small streaks of light shot from it in various directions. Little orange bursts sprang to life and then quickly died out across the expanse. “They’re firing on the escape pods,” he realized aloud.

“And they think we’re one of them,” Kanan agreed.

The refugee swerved their small ship uncertainly. “We’ll land on Nar Shaddaa,” he said. “You can hide with us until we can contact your crew.”

“Wait,” Kanan said suddenly, leaning forward and squinting. After a second he threw himself into the co-pilot seat. Ezra watched as he booted up the short range communication transmitter and keyed in a code. “Spectre One hailing the Ghost.”

Ezra quickly looked out the window again. Sure enough, he could just barely make out the shape of his new home soaring in between the pods, dodging blasts from the nikto ship.

“We read you Spectre One!” Sabine’s excited voice replied. “We’ve been looking for you! Are you in one of the escape pods?”

“No, we’re in a small hauler with some of the members of the Nar Shaddaa cell.”

“Is Ezra with you?”

Ezra allowed himself a smile at her concern. He considered making some kind of joke, but he just didn’t feel up to it. His head hurt really, really bad. 

“He’s here,” Kanan confirmed. He glanced down at the control board. “This thing has enough fuel for one hyperspace jump. If the fleet hasn’t moved, I think we could make it there.”

“Copy Spectre One,” Hera answered. “Sending coordinates for the jump now. We’ll rendezvous there.”

As Kanan fiddled with the nav computer, the refugee leader brought their ship around to avoid a floating chunk of wreckage. When he did, the view out the window shifted. Ezra’s eyes widened. The ship they had come from was almost completely gone. It was nothing but a mass of chain explosions. Their escape had been a narrow one. 

“Navigation complete,” Kanan announced. “We’ll see you there.” He waited until the Ghost zipped out of view in a burst of light and then powered up their own hyperdrive. As the stars turned into long streaks that rapidly gave way to a swirl of cloudy blue, Ezra felt like a huge weight dropped from his shoulders. The feeling was mirrored on the faces of the other passengers.

But with it, the pain set back in. He could feel whatever had been keeping him going start to drain away. He stumbled back to his seat.

Kanan sighed. “We sure are lucky you came,” he told the twi’lek leader. “Thanks for the assist, friend.”

“Call me Viscar.”

“Kanan. ...How did you know where to find us?”

“The last of our group that was supposed to meet with you got chased away by the Xim’s Blade before you arrived. They did not have a way to contact you, so came back and reported to us instead. We were too late to save you on Nar Shaddaa, but we knew they usually like to keep their ship in orbit. We borrowed this hauler from a spice smuggler at the spaceport.”

“‘Borrowed?’”

Viscar grinned. “As long as we return it, it is borrowed, yes?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“We are glad to have arrived in time. That boy…” he glanced back at Ezra. “We know of him. We’re told he is the one who broadcasted the message of hope. He inspired many of us to stand up against the Empire on our home worlds.”

Kanan looked back too, his face tired but filled with pride. Then suddenly his expression changed. He must have known what was coming even before Ezra did. In an abrupt wave of nausea, Ezra retched. When the contents of his stomach were finally emptied, he was surprised to find Kanan kneeling in front of him with a helmet in place. He felt a bit sorry for the smuggler whose helmet it was.

Kanan set the impromptu bucket aside. “Kid, look at me.”

Ezra tried, but found it strangely difficult to focus. Everything looked fuzzy. Force, why did his head hurt so much?

Kanan snapped his fingers. “Stay with me Ezra.”

He wasn’t sure that was an option. Pain was rapidly swallowing him up. He felt his head fall forward onto Kanan’s shoulder. He wasn’t aware of much else after that.


	3. Chapter 3

Kanan rolled the commlink slowly in his hands. He had just finished listening to Ezra’s message for the second time. He had first found the comm in his pocket shortly after they had arrived at the rebel fleet and taken Ezra to the medical bay. But he had not noticed the recorded message until now, almost two days later. As soon as he heard it, he sought out Hera. He pulled her aside so that she could listen to it too, and now they sat in silence in a vacant meeting room. 

“He was really going to do it,” Hera at last said quietly.

Kanan didn’t know how to process what had happened. In his dream (vision?) right before he had woken up on the nikto’s ship, Master Billaba had appeared to him and made him aware of the situation. But still, a part of him had refused to believe it until now. The finality in Ezra’s voice, the acceptance--it was too much. Kanan felt like an utter failure. His master had once sacrificed herself to save him, and he had almost let his padawan do the same thing. Ezra was just a kid. Growing up fast, sure, but still just a kid. If anyone should be doing the sacrificing, it was Kanan. Not the other way around.

Hera laid her hand over his. “You should be proud. What he did was very brave.”

“He’s an idiot,” Kanan growled. “He almost died Hera. What was he thinking? What possessed him to believe that he could just throw away his life like that?!”

“I think it was you, Love,” she replied gently. “Ezra learns by example. He wasn’t throwing his life away, he was going to give it in protection of someone he loved. Just like you were willing to do.”

“I know!” he snapped. Then with a sigh he ran one hand down his face and said more calmly, “I know. But I never wanted him to have to put that lesson into practice. Not for me. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Of course you didn’t. That’s why it’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault. Explain to me how I come out without a scratch and my apprentice gets a concussion, multiple cuts, and a blaster burned leg, and it’s not my fault. I’m the one who got myself captured on a mission and put him in a situation where he thought there was no other way out.” After a brief pause he added, “A mission we wouldn’t have even been on if the Rebellion hadn’t wanted us to go.”

Hera withdrew her hand. “The mission was a success,” she said with quiet firmness. “We delivered supplies to people who desperately needed them.”  
“And it almost cost us a crew member.”

“Almost. Ezra’s going to be fine. The medical droids say he’s recovering quickly. Our allies were there to help. Rebel allies.”  
“Sure. This time,” Kanan grumbled.

Just then there came a knock on the door and a moment later Viscar let himself in. “I am sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but we are heading back to Nar Shaddaa now. I wanted to thank you again for everything.”

Hera smiled at him. “We’re the ones who should be thanking you!”

He waved her off. “No, it was our pleasure. Also, I wanted to assure you that your secret is safe with us, Master Jedi.”

Kanan stood and shook the rebel’s hand. “I appreciate that. After seeing the trouble one gang on a non-Imperial world went through to collect a bounty on me, I’m sure you can understand that the fewer people who know, the better. The rest of your cell doesn’t particularly need to know all the details of our escape.”

Viscar nodded. “We do understand. There are too few people like you left in the galaxy. I’m honored to help protect them. ...Ah, and I was asked to see about getting one more crate of supplies to bring back with us.”

“I’m not the one to talk to about that,” Kanan said, gesturing to Hera. “But Captain Syndulla here can get you in touch with the right people.”

Hera stood and led him from the room. “Come with me. I’m sure the Rebellion can accommodate you.”

Before turning to leave, Viscar asked, “And the boy, Spectre Six? Will he be alright?”

“He’s fine,” Hera assured him. “In fact Kanan was just going to check on him, weren’t you dear?”

“Yeah, I guess I was,” Kanan replied sourly. There was more they needed to discuss about their reasons for hanging around the Rebellion for so long when it was clearly proving to be extremely hazardous, but he supposed it could wait until later. He left the two twi’leks to solve the cargo issue and stalked down the hall toward the med bay. He actually did want to check on Ezra, but was not sure exactly what to say to him now. His instincts told him that his padawan needed a good talking-to. His protectiveness told him to order Ezra to stay confined to the Ghost during missions for the next six months. And his heart just wanted to hug him.

When he came to the open doorway to the medical unit, he paused. Zeb’s voice carried into the hallway.

“Time to call it, kid. Doc says the leg’s no good. We’ve gotta chop it. I’ll do the honors.”

“Ha ha, very funny. The droid already told me it’s just a burn. A couple more days of kolto and it will be back to normal.”

“I don’t know Ezra,” Sabine joined in. “You look pretty bad. Chopper thinks you should donate your body for scrap parts while there’s still anything left worth using.”

Chopper agreed with a wah-wah noise.

“You guys are just hilarious,” Ezra answered sarcastically. “Zeb’s the one you should really worry about though. He’s pretty beat up after I saved his life.”

“I thought we agreed we were eternally even!” the lasat roared. “An’ a few little stitches is nothing compared to a fracture in your tiny human skull.”

“Ow! Hairline fracture! And no poking!”

Kanan made his entrance then before any real damage could be done. “Okay you four, that’s enough.”

Zeb and Ezra both jumped at the sight of him, each muttering something about the other one starting it.

The med bay on the rebel command ship was not large. It only had three beds, a handful of chairs, one bacta tank, and one closet full of medicine and supplies. The two medical droids on staff flitted in and out frequently. Currently, his crew were the only people inhabiting the room. Ezra sat on the edge of one of the beds as his friends stood around him. 

“Sabine, Chopper, Zeb: I think Hera could use your help sending off the Nar Shaddaa team,” Kanan said as he crossed his arms, making sure they understood there was no room for argument. They all gave Ezra a cursory glance before silently exiting the room. (Well, almost silently. Chopper made comments on the way out that Kanan didn’t care to translate).

Ezra looked up at his master sheepishly, seeming to know he was in trouble. It was the first time, Kanan realized, that he had ever really seen him dressed in anything other than his orange flight suit. They had put him in a short white robe and loose pants for optimal treatment purposes. He actually looked a little bit like a jedi. “So...what’s up?” the boy asked tentatively.

Kanan pulled up a chair beside the bed. “Found this,” he said, producing the commlink.

Ezra’s eyes became a little wider than normal, as if he had forgotten all about it. “Oh. Yeah.”

They both remained silent for a stretch, uncertain what to say.

Kanan finally sighed. “Look, I’m grateful for what you did. Or were willing to do. But I don’t want you to ever try something like that again.”

Ezra frowned stubbornly. “I can’t promise that.”

“You can, and you will,” the jedi replied firmly. “You’re too reckless. You have to learn to think before you act.”

Ezra held his ground. “You said that when the time comes, we have to be ready to sacrifice for something bigger! I didn’t get it then, but I do now. I’m ready!”

“I didn’t mean me!” Kanan shouted. “I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me! You’re too young! You’re too important!”

Ezra shut his mouth, the frown falling off his face. 

Kanan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” he muttered, looking away.

His padawan fidgeted his hands for a moment. “How did you know?” he asked then. “How did you already know what I was doing when you woke up? And how could you use the Force? The bounty hunters said they used the Force-suppressor on both of us.”

“They did,” Kanan replied. “I’m not convinced that was me using the Force.”

“What do you mean?”

Kanan hesitated. “Just before I woke up, I had...a vision.”

Ezra perked up. “A vision? What about?”

“I saw my master, Depa Billaba. She told me you were about to die. When she reached out to touch me, I understood everything. It was like I had been watching you the whole time I was out. I felt her power flow into me, just like…” Habit told him to stop, not to talk about it, but Ezra was listening intently. “Just like right before she died,” he finished. He couldn’t bring himself to elaborate.

Ezra seemed to think that over. “So you think...she was helping you somehow?”

Kanan leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m not really sure,” he answered honestly. “It doesn’t seem very likely, does it?”

“No, that totally makes sense!”

Kanan raised an eyebrow at him.

“I mean I could tell the whole time that something about you felt off. Just really different. Maybe it really was her.”

He was constantly impressed by Ezra’s rapidly growing abilities. When Kanan first began his training, it took him over a year to be able to distinguish between two force-users by feeling alone. 

“I guess...masters never stop watching out for their padawans,” Ezra said thoughtfully.

Kanan couldn’t stop a smile from cracking his lips. He stood and wrapped one arm around the boy’s shoulders, giving him a pat. “You got that right.”

Ezra smiled up at him. “But padawans never stop watching out for their masters either! They need a lot of help.”

Kanan rolled his eyes, sensing that he was fighting a losing battle. “I guess we’ll watch out for each other.” 

Ezra nodded. “Until the very end.”

Kanan would have ruffled his hair had it not been for his recovering injuries. Instead he pulled him into a one armed hug. “Yeah,” he said. “Or maybe longer.”


End file.
